Nat rolled his eyes. He’d been sitting in the blow-up pool with a book while Woody dozed fitfully under the apple tree. It was never good when his mum “needed to talk.” Usually it was to lecture him for some mistake, or to say that she had found him a “little job to do.” Reluctantly he went inside, Woody following at his heels.

His mum was already sitting on the sofa. She looked serious, her hands folded in her lap.

“I’m not deaf, you know,” she said gravely, as Nat sat down opposite her.

“What do you mean?” asked Nat, puzzled.

“I keep hearing you talk to Woody,” said Jude gently, “like he’s a person.”

“I don’t talk to him,” Nat protested. “Not really. I’m just thinking out loud.”

“It’s not healthy,” said Jude. “It’s time you made some real friends: human friends.”

Nat could feel himself getting annoyed. “Hmmmm,” he said, pretending to think hard. “I could call up the Slaughtered Sheep and ask Teddy Davis over for tea, or maybe one of his Neanderthal gang would like to come out with me on Granddad’s boat.”

“OK,” sighed Jude, “point taken. But maybe I didn’t mean here in Temple Gurney.”

She passed Nat an envelope. Puzzled, he shook out the contents. Two oblong pieces of thin card stock dropped into his hand.

“Two tickets for the Eurostar?” Nat frowned.

“For the train to Paris,” said Jude. “Your dad sent them. For you and me.”

“But … but … what about …?” stammered Nat, bewildered.

“Woody will come, too,” interrupted Jude hastily. “He won’t even need to go into quarantine with the other animals; it’s all in Dad’s letter.”

Nat thought for a moment, his excitement building. “When do we go?”

“Next week,” said Jude, hugging him. “Oh, Nat, I’ve been so worried you wouldn’t want to go. This will be a wonderful new start for us.”

Nat thought quickly. It could work. Now there would be no need for Woody to go with Crescent and the Howlers. True, they would have to stay completely out of sight for a few days longer, but once Woody had crossed the English Channel and set foot in France, the Proteus people would never find him — hopefully.

“Woody will need to be microchipped,” said Jude, “and he’ll need his own passport.”

Nat’s face fell. “But that could mean Woody will be weeks behind us.”

“Read Dad’s letter,” urged Jude, “it’ll explain everything.”